Those Damn Digestives
by AzumeRiver
Summary: Klance meeting AU. Lance has got to watch his television show anniversary but has ran out of digestives. He's in Walmart at 2AM sobbing. Guess who walks into his life? Keith.


**Full Summary: "It's my tradition to eat twizzlers while marathoning this show on it's anniversary but i ran out so i'm in the Walmart candy aisle at 2 am crying because i can't find the twizzlers please help me" AU** **ccrvoattano**

 **\- Taken from a dailyau tumblr prompt account so idea is not mine. I'm just going to change twizzlers to digestives. And write the story.**

 **Oh yeah... Klance but no kissing and stuff cause they've just met.**

 *** The digestives mentioned are cookies/biscuits, so not the stomach medicine! And I don't own them, but they taste good.**

* * *

Lance couldn't believe it. Walmart had run out of Digestives.

 _How?_

He had depended on the shop down his street, he had placed his faith in the supermarket. They failed him. The store was gigantic, filled to the brim with everything from bed knobs to broomsticks. There was nobody there, it was deserted. The candy isle was full. Of all the sweets they could run out of, it had to be digestives.

 _Why?_

Lance ran his hand along the assorted biscuits, whimpering as he read their titles. It wasn't there. He got to the end of the isle, and turned back around to feel the biscuit packets again. Lance paced up and down the isle, dragging his hand along the biscuits as his eyes scanned their covers. It wasn't there. He began to rummage through the biscuits, pulling them violently from the shelves - glancing at them with disgust - then tossing them to the floor. They piled on the ground, a trail of destruction following Lance as he searched deeper, waiting for the digestives to make themselves known.

He checked the watch on his wrist, eyes bleary with fatigue: _2:03 AM._

At this rate he wouldn't even finish binge-watching the show. It was his show, an epic space adventure he'd lived for as a kid and built his life around. It was about five pilots who saved the world from an evil race trying to destroy it - elementary stuff. But still, Lance could distinctly remember the way his heart stopped every time the red Paladin did something reckless, and put the whole team at risk for the mission. Even now, he still gripped the edge of his sofa in terror at the end of the twelfth episode. The show was his lifeline, and he couldn't survive without it. It was his rock, the base from which he structured his whole being. If he didn't re-watch the show on it's twentieth anniversary, he would be disregarding a tradition he'd followed since he was eight; it was a nine year long tradition. Lance couldn't be that cruel; he _had_ to watch the show.

And he _needed_ his digestives.

The biscuits had also become a tradition, though not as long-running as his space show, but just as dear and close to his tender heart. Lance's best friend - Hunk - had met the _love of his whole entire short lifetime_ who _completed him_ a meagre four years ago. Hunk used to be Lance's accomplice, his movie buddy. Since Shae entered the scene, Lance's amigo had deserted him on the sacred day, preferring to snuggle up with his girlfriend instead of spend quality time with his bestie watching a kid's show and eating digestives. Since Hunk's cruel betrayal, the biscuits were Lance's sole companion and emotion-food outlet.

And they weren't there!

He had run out of his godly treat at the end of episode eleven, the last one before the grand finale. He needed to watch the ending, to remember the great sacrifice made at the end so humanity could survive. He wanted to feel his heart break, and stuff ten digestives in his mouth to distract him from the terrible pain of a lost loved one.

Lance sank to the floor, collapsing against the shattered crumbs of strewn biscuits all over the floor. Why did the world hate him so much? What had he done to deserve this? He began to cry, grieving over the loss of a treasured tradition, a sacred oath he swore he'd never break. It was broken. Lance's nose ran, and he glumly wiped it against a brand less packet of biscuits. He couldn't finish the show without his digestives, and Walmart was the closest supermarket that was open at two in the morning for miles.

His situation was hopeless.

"You should probably pick those up." A bored voice drawled from the end of the aisle.

Lance sniffed loudly and turned his head to stare at the person who had disrupted his impromptu melt out session.

It was an Asian boy, about Lance's age but a few inches shorter. He wore a thin red jacket, long at the sleeves and cropped at the waist with a white hem. It hugged the boy's slender figure and complimented his slender frame. He had very dark hair, and Lance had to physically restrain himself from bursting out into laughter when he recognised the retro hairstyle: _it was a mullet._ How could someone still believe those were in style? They had gone out of style like, twenty years ago.

Lance couldn't repress a snigger, and he let it slide out between his lips.

The boy flushed crimson, and bit his lip.

"What?" He said indignantly, placing gloved hands on his hips. _Fingerless gloves._ Lance couldn't keep it in.

He burst into laughter, shaking on the ground as he heaved breathes in-between raucous laughs. This kid thought he was emo. Oh dios, Lance couldn't handle this shortie, trying to boss him around.

"Y-you!" Lance rasped. "You have a mullet!"

The Asian boy glared fiercely, charcoal eyes glinting. "So what if I do?"

Lance planted his hands on the biscuits to steady himself. He snorted. "Nothing, mullet."

The boy folded his arms. "It's Keith, actually."

Lance brushed biscuit crumbs from his green jacket and stood up, extending a long limbed arm to Keith. "Lance McClain."

Keith didn't shake Lance's hand, but instead stared pointedly at it until Lance dropped his arm limply to his side.

"It's two in the morning, what are you doing sobbing in a biscuit aisle?" Keith asked in a stiff voice, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Lance suddenly remembered his tradition, his digestives, and the time.

 _2:18 AM_

"Dios!" Lance cried, fear flooding into his voice. "I'm gonna miss episode twelve!"

"Excuse me?" Keith said, narrowing his eyes.

Lance didn't have time to explain.

"Look," He said bluntly, sidestepping easily around the young emo. "Have you heard of Voltron?" Hearing the show's name escape from his own lips sent chills down Lance's spine, painfully reminding him of his longing to finish his tradition.

Keith paused, hesitating before slowly answering no. Lance looked at the boy, and he quickly averted his eyes to fixate them on the biscuits scattered across the floor. Lance kicked the biscuits, and they skidded across the floor and under a shelf.

"You're lying." He said in a low voice, the husky tone he used to imitate detectives in all those famous television series.

Keith met his eyes, and Lance noticed how they glimmered slightly and never wavered from his face. "Yeah. I am."

"Why?"

Keith blushed again, his ears turning pink as he muttered under his breath: "I could never finish episode twelve."

Keith must have seen the climax. Most fans would have turned their heads away from the gruesome scene of noble sacrifice but Keith must have witnessed it. And then not finished the episode to see how the sacrifice improved the lives of billions of people. Keith connected with Voltron, or else he wouldn't have made it to episode twelve. Lance staggered, struck by a genius idea. He looked at Keith, a fire dancing in his chocolate brown eyes.

"How old are you?"

Keith didn't miss a beat. "Eighteen." He said, narrowing his eyes.

"Do you own digestives?"

"Yeah, I have some in the boot of my car." Keith sounded sceptical, yet slightly amused by the questions.

"What did you come in here to buy?"

"A packet of twizzlers."

Lance swiped a fairly constructed packed from the ground. He held it out to Keith, a grin wide on his face. Keith took the twizzlers, and he held them at his chest.

"Okay, I'll buy you those." Lance announced smugly, pulling out his wallet.

Keith furrowed his brows. "Wh-"

"Because I'm taking your digestives, and you are formally invited to come watch the Voltron finale at my house tonight."

Keith looked taken aback. "We've only just met-"

"It _has_ to be today!" Lance pleaded, his voice breaking. "It's the twentieth anniversary!"

Keith rolled his eyes. He looked Lance up and down, taking in his slightly bedraggled appearance.

"Only because I don't have cash." Keith said. Then he added as an afterthought: "And I regret not watching the ending of Voltron ten years ago."

Lance pumped the air, grabbed Keith's hand and physically dragged him through Walmart to the checkout. He bought Keith's twizzlers, and ran out to the parking lot. Keith took the lead from here, and led Lance to his car, a sleek black shiny one. The boot automatically opened, and the digestives gleamed like a 1st place trophy. Lance clutched them like he would a new born baby, and hugged them close to his chest. Keith laughed softly, and Lance felt a grin spread across his cheeks as he got in the front seat next to his new friend.

Keith drove out of the parking lot and onto the main rode, his eyes fixated ahead.

"So where are we going?"


End file.
